


Life on Track

by sunnysideblonde



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Nascar, Dick Jokes, Doctor!Leorio, Driver!Kurapika, Explicit Language, French!Gon, Gay Panic, Gay Panic!Killua, Gon is short, Gon speaks French, Killua Zoldyck Needs a Hug, Multi, Oblivious Gon Freecs, Reporter!Gon, Russian Killua, The Zoldycks Are The Worst, Tsundere Killua Zoldyck, pierced Kurapika, take that back leorio i said take that back its mr leorio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnysideblonde/pseuds/sunnysideblonde
Summary: One of NASCAR’s upcoming best and brightest, Killua Zoldyck has a bad rep. A notorious playboy, crass, and often rude to reporters, Killua uses any outlet he can to escape the resentment he feels towards the sport he used to love. Enter first-day-on-the-job sports reporter Gon Freecss, a boy from France who’s never so much as driven a car. Knowing nothing about the sport but with a genuine desire to write about people’s passions, Gon strikes up a conversation with Killua, and honestly, who could fault Killua for falling in love with...racing?
Relationships: Alluka Zoldyck & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs & Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Ikalgo & Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 139
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, this started as a joke between me and my friends. My friend (and current editor, @breakfastwithlu here on AO3!) asked what Killua would do if he weren't an assassin, I jokingly said drive for NASCAR, and...here we are. Anyways I'm so incredibly in love with this idea, and I hope you all enjoy it as well!
> 
> (Currently, I plan to update this story once a week on Friday. This is very likely to change though!)
> 
> -Rosie (follow me on tumblr!! @rosiesbizarreadventure)

_November 15th, 2019_

**_The Playboy of NASCAR is Back in the Driver’s Seat!_ **

_By: Tonpa Bendot_

Fans of NASCAR rejoice! In a _JuiceNews_ exclusive interview with a representative for Killua Zoldyck, last year’s winner of NASCAR’s Nationwide series, it was confirmed that Zoldyck will be returning for this year’s racing season! Zoldyck made headlines recently following his public intoxication charges and DUI scandal, rousing suspicion that the young driver may be pulling out for this year’s racing season. However, our representative assured us that Zoldyck is, in fact, planning on participating, having been cleared by the NASCAR boards following his DUI acquittal in court. When asked, Zoldyck’s representative went on to make excuses for Zoldyck’s less-than pristine behavior recently, saying: “hey, when you think about it, it really could be much worse!”

  
  


————————————

  
  


“Fuckers,” Killua growled as he threw down his tablet containing the _JuiceNews_ article that his least favorite reporter, Tonpa Bendot, had written. “Is this why you called me to your office Ikalgo? To show me this dumbass article?” Killua Zoldyck was not happy. After getting a call from his manager at _seven-oh-too god damn early_ in the morning, Killua was instructed to head over to his office as soon as possible. Forty-nine minutes later found him in his current situation: scowl on his face, clothes thrown haphazardly on his body, sunglasses to help his massive hangover, and his feet resting pointedly on his manager’s pristine desk.

“First of all,” Ikalgo started, “get your feet off my desk. I don’t care how much you had to drink last night, you’re twenty-four years old, not a mannerless child.” Killua gave him a glare that promised a slow, gruesome death, but slowly took his feet off the desk anyways. His manager adjusted the glasses on his face before continuing. “Second of all, you need to get your shit together.” 

Killua pulled his sunglasses down and narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “I don’t remember putting it in your contract to speak to me like that,” he spoke, ice in his voice. Ikalgo folded his hands under his chin and leaned forward on his desk, one of the only people who wouldn’t instantly roll over and show their belly at the first sign of Killua’s anger. 

“Funny,” Ikalgo retorted, “I don’t remember any stipulations for DUI’s in our contract either. I must have missed it.” Killua seethed, but what could he say? Ikalgo was right, and the smug bastard knew it. Sighing, Ikalgo ran his hands through his hair. “Killua, you know I’m right. This attitude isn’t good for your career. Sponsors are going to pull out, partnerships—”

Killua quickly cut him off, standing abruptly and voice shaking in anger. “Fuck my career! Fuck my sponsors, and fuck partnerships. I hate this goddamn sport! And you know I can’t quit it either.” He turned, stomping over to the door of his manager’s office. Casting one last glance at the unamused man, Killua added, “I’ll do whatever I want, thanks. Anyone has an issue with it, I’ll tell them exactly where they can put their issues.” With that, Killua slammed the door shut, leaving behind a very exhausted and very underpaid manager, desperately in need of a vacation.

  
  


————————————

  
  


It was snowing. Hard. Killua sighed, leaning further into the soft leather of his couch. He had escaped to his vacation home in Northern Utah, desperate for time away from all the noise and gossip of the competitive racing world, but Killua hadn’t expected to be as _bored_ as he was. Ikalgo, of course, had begged him not to go, tried to convince him that taking a vacation in the dead of winter to his cozy ski resort-located home was in fact, not the best idea, but of course Killua had ignored him. He hadn’t really talked with Ikalgo since their little spat a few weeks ago, save for a few quick check-in texts and an updated schedule in preparation for his return to racing. Groaning, he turned over, grabbing for his wine glass on the coffee table just a few feet away and tilting his head up to make sure he didn’t choke himself on his Cabernet. Firing off a quick text to Alluka, who was currently on a winter break trip to Greece with her school, Killua tipped his glass, letting the rest of the deep red liquid slide smoothly down his throat. Still bored out of his mind, he sat up, deciding against his better judgement to check his various social media accounts.

**Killua Zoldyck ✓ @killuazoldyck**

trip to utah for some boarding & booze, feels fucking fantastic — at _Park Valley Ski Resort_

7:17 PM • 1/8/20 • Twitter for uPhone

**Kurapika Kurta ✓ @kurapika_kurta**

lol dumbass

  
  


**get that zolDICK @killuaismylovr23**

kil bby nooo,,,, u just got done with that dui stuff :(

**lauren loves kil @laur.zoldyck__**

@killuaismylovr23 uhh fck offf and leave killua alone??

  
  


**get that zolDICK @killuaismylovr23**

@laur.zoldyck__ bitch im just looking out for him get my name outta ur mentions 

**JuiceNews ✓ @juicenewsdaily**

@killuazoldyck Any comments about your rumored scandal with Nen Magazine’s frequent covergirl, Baise Delrose?

  
  


**Killua Zoldyck ✓ @killuazoldyck**

@juicenewsdaily no, eat glass

  
  


Finishing up his reply to the ever annoying team at _JuiceNews_ , Killua smirked, knowing the shit he’d get for it from Ikalgo and the general media would be well worth it if it meant not having to hold his tongue against those leeches. When it came to his “scandals”, JuiceNews was always the first to cover the story, their head journalist ( _if he could be called that_ , Killua thought sourly) possessing some strange fascination with ruining the reputations and careers of new up-and-coming celebrities. This pastime had earned him the moniker _Rookie Crusher Tonpa_ , as the man had proudly destroyed what looked to have been promising careers. Killua despised him, and had mentioned on more than one occasion to an exasperated Ikalgo, a concerned Alluka, or a riled up Kurapika Kurta that if he were to punch anyone in the face, it would be Tonpa _motherfucking_ Bendot.

Scrolling down through his feed, he ignored most of the posts, paying attention to ones from people he knew personally, but heart still not in it. The racing season, his third, started in a month, and he was definitely not looking forward to it. Born into the wildly successful Zoldyck family, Killua had expectations for success placed on him from birth. When he was young, maybe 5 or 6 years old, it was decided that Killua would be the child entrusted with the family name. His older brothers Illumi and Milluki didn’t fit the _successful heir_ image that their father had so carefully cultivated, and thus, the mantle was passed to Killua. When he presented a high IQ, grace under pressure, and quick reflexes in his early teen years, it only further solidified his father’s insistence of him being responsible for the continuation of the family legacy.

Killua was given some freedom in the path his success would take, but ultimately, his father Silva pulled the strings behind the scenes. Killua chose competitive driving, as his love for adrenaline seemed to (at least slightly) ease the tension and stress placed upon him by Silva, but as the years went on and he was constantly told to _do better, drive faster, work harder_ , Killua slowly lost the love previously held for the sport. Now, he outright resented racing, and yet unable to abandon what he once held so dear. Killua wished he could quit, avoid the public eye, spend his time trying to find another passion, but it was like his family had him in a trance, he was unable to go against their wishes, no matter how much he wanted to. So for now, Killua would find his escape from this shitty situation anywhere he could. Anyone who had a problem with it could go to hell. Killua was sure he would see them down there.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm planning on posting every friday!!! :))
> 
> also me: doesn't post until sunday
> 
> v sorry everyone, hopefully my lone hxh dub reference makes up for this lol

There wasn’t much about driving that could still entice Killua. When he was younger, just starting out in his NASCAR career, he had loved it all; the fame, the money, the _women_ , the overall feeling that he was on top of the world. However, as time went on, as his motivations went from self-fulfillment to non-stop improvement at his family and sponsors’ nonstop insistence, Killua found his enjoyment slowly wilting. Now, three years in, he found his satisfaction in whatever (or whoever) he could, constantly reaching for just a few moments where he could truly feel _alive_ . However, those moments never came, and Killua resolved himself to small, simple pleasures in life—one of those being his extravagant penthouse apartment. Killua had spared no cost in decorating with what he liked, leather couches, fur throws, and sub zero appliances graced his apartment, and had earned him a few features in various interior decoration magazines. His favorite thing about his penthouse, by far, was the fact that he lived alone. Seeing as how the only person he would ever willingly live with, Alluka, was in boarding school across the country, living alone and spending time by himself was one of the small things Killua still enjoyed about his life. And right now, that solitude was being ruined by one of the things Killua definitely did _not_ enjoy.

“Killua, are you even listening to me?” His manager Ikalgo asked, pained expression on his face. They were currently in Killua’s bedroom, Ikalgo ripping open the curtains of the floor to ceiling windows, and Killua still lying in bed. The former had let himself in with the spare key that Killua had tried a countless number of times to take back, and judging by the smell, Killua assumed Ikalgo had brought coffee and breakfast with him too.

“Ugh.” Killua groaned, turning his face back into his silk pillow. “What time is it?”

“Seven.” Ikalgo answered smoothly.

Killua turned his head the smallest bit to glare at him. “And is that am or pm?”

Ikalgo looked appalled. “Good lord, how much did you drink last night? It’s seven am, and if you don’t get out of bed, you’re going to be late to your physical.”

Killua groaned, moving slowly to sit up. “Oh, is that today?” At his manager’s glare, Killua snickered. “Fine. I’ll get up. Just be glad that I made sure to have my nighttime visitor leave last night.” Ikalgo signed, and Killua hid a smirk. Pushing back the covers, he stood, body completely nude and on display, stretching his long arms over his head and letting out an obnoxious groan.

At the noise, Ikalgo looked over, eyes widening for a second before the man turned away. “Really, Killua? You couldn’t have warned me that you were completely naked? I definitely didn’t need to see any of that this early.”

“Aw, come on Ikalgo,” Killua teased, “my _special friend_ last night didn’t seem to have any issues with it.” He made his way over to his closet, grabbing a robe and tying it loose around his waist. Letting Ikalgo know that it was, in fact, safe to look at him now, he padded out to the kitchen, grabbing the latte his manager had gotten for him and taking a small sip.

“About that,” Ikalgo chastised, “you look like your neck got in a fight with a paintball gun. And lost. You do realize that the first big press conference is tomorrow, right?” Killua simply groaned into his coffee. He hated the press conferences. He saw them as nothing more than an annoyance, an opportunity for shitty gossip magazines (hello, JuiceNews) to stir up drama and speculate on rumors. He was tired of hearing the same questions, the ones about his success, his family, his relationships, and he knew that with the DUI scandal he’d recently had that there would be no shortage of questions about that either. Just for once in his life, Killua wanted to be Killua. Not a Zoldyck heir, not a NASCAR driver, not a womanizer, or a playboy, or a partier, but himself. However, as the years went on, Killua found he struggled more and more with his sense of self. Was Killua, _the real Killua_ , actually the persona that was often found in the media? Was it the boy who had grown up much too quick, forced into a spotlight he didn’t want? Was it someone who found himself in a different club, at a different party, in a different bed every night? Would he ever know?

Taking a final sip of his coffee and nodding to Ikalgo, who was busy telling Killua about his schedule for the day, he scarfed down the breakfast he’d been brought, and headed to get ready for another day of playing the role he was given.

* * *

_Posted 4hrs ago by u/B1gR1gRacing_

**[OPEN] Thread: Discussing the Prominent Drivers of the 2020 Racing Season**

Hey guys, mod here. Wanted to open up a thread for discussions on the new 2020 racing season, mainly the drivers you guys think could end up making it to the finals. Hate will not be tolerated. Keep it civil please.

-Mod BRR

**u/sp33d_d3m0n**

obviously zoldyck is gonna make it. the kid’s been on fire every season he’s been in

**u/ZolDick69**

Dude Zoldyck is a fuckn boss. 

**u/KurtazClan22**

yeah hes good and all but hes also so young idk, kurta has a good chance of winning if u ask me

**u/ZolDick69**

How much are u getting paid to kiss Kurta’s ass? Zoldyck is obviously better dumbass

**u/KurtazClan22**

ur mom didnt seem to have a problem w me kissing ass last night

**u/B1gR1gRacing**

This is a warning to both of you. This comment thread is closed. Talk shit again and get 24h banned. Like I said, keep it civil. -Mod BRR

  
  


**u/jmrman89**

I think Morow has a good chance, although he drives like a mad man lol

**u/sp33d_d3m0n**

morow is crazy good but idk dude kinda gives me the creeps or smthn lmao

**u/fastnotfurious69**

Here’s my best bets based on years prior and overall skill level: Kurapika Kurta, Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka Morow, Chrollo Lulcifer, Meruem Roi, Shiapouf Perhonen, Knuckle Bine, Shoot McMahon, Knov Shin, and Morel Mackernasey.

**u/jmrman89**

It’s a shame Netero retired. His reflexes were crazy fast

**u/fastnotfurious69**

Rumors said that he could lap anyone 99 times before they completed a single one lol. Of course it was all a rumor but he was still a racing legend

  
  
  


* * *

“Do you agree?” Killua held his phone up in front of the man’s face, the NASCAR forum still on his screen. Ikalgo was sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs in the pop-up medic tent, feigning disinterest at Killua and Dr. Paradinight’s (very noticeably one-sided) conversation.

“Ehh?” The man in front of him questioned, wrapping his stethoscope back around his neck.

“The list,” Killua explained, “do you think what—” Killua looked back down at his cellphone. “Hold on, this dude’s username is ‘fastnotfurious69’? That’s dumb as fuck.”

Suddenly, the phone was lifted out of his grasp, and Killua looked up and into the eyes of his rather annoyed manager. “Sorry, Dr. Paradinight,” Ikalgo apologized, getting up out of his chair and stalking across the floor, “clearly someone has forgotten his manners.”

Killua grumbled. “I’m not a child, damn you.” He uncrossed his arms, taking a deep breath and repositioning himself on the paper covered cot in the medical tent. It was the day of the physical exams, the first press conference of the season being tomorrow, and this meant that Killua had to freeze his ass off in a too-small tent with his irritating manager and the overly kind Dr. Paradinight. Said doctor motioned for Killua to take his shirt off, and the driver complied, noticing Ikalgo’s eye roll at his now exposed love bites. 

Dr. Paradinight poked at them good naturedly. “So, what happened here, hmm?” He teased. Killua shot him a sly smirk.

“Women. You know how it is.” Dr. Paradinight simply hummed, in dismissal or agreement Killua didn’t know, but continued his examination. Signaling to Killua that he could put his shirt back on, and thus cover up the bruising around his neck, the doctor flipped through his files and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

“Any drinking?” Dr. Paradinight asked, going through the required drug and alcohol usage questionnaire. 

Killua cackled. “Why? You got anything here? Because if you’re offering—”

A sharp glare from his manager shut the younger man up quickly. Dr. Paradinight cleared his throat and continued on with the questions. “Drugs?”

Killua let out a fake, high pitched gasp. “Why, doctor, I’m shocked! I never took you for the type! Of course, I don’t have any on me, but if you give me a few hours I can—wha—ow!”

Ikalgo smacked him swiftly upside the head. “Stop being a little shit.” He turned sheepishly to Dr. Paladinight. “I apologize, Doctor. I’d make excuses about it being an off day for him but unfortunately, we both know that his terrible personality is wholly authentic.”

Killua grinned as he gripped at his chest. “Oh, Ikalgo, you _wound_ me.”

Dr. Paradinight let out a small chuckle, placing his clipboard onto the spotless countertop inside the medical tent. “Eh, don’t worry about it, Ikalgo. Killua’s a good kid, just a little spunky. And I don’t know how many times I’ve told you both to call me Leorio.”

“Oi, Leorio!” A voice called out.

Leorio sighed and turned to where the voice had come from, the front entrance to the tent. Craning his head around the privacy divider, he addressed the person in front of him, a blond figure dressed in all black. “Except for you. It’s Dr. Leorio, or Dr. Paradinight to you.”

The blonde chuckled, walking through the tent and turning behind the privacy divider. Bending down, he whispered something in Leorio’s ear that made the older man blush a bright red, and then turned to the other two occupants in the makeshift room. 

“Yo, Kurapika.” Killua grinned. “Long time, no see, eh?”

“Heard you got fucking wasted in Utah, Zoldyck. Where was my invite?” Kurapika replied smoothly.

Killua laughed. “My bad. I just assumed you were busy returning your wardrobe to whichever _Hell’s Angels_ member you stole it from. You know, you and your leather jackets are number one on PETA’s shit list.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurapika retorted cooly, “quit riding my dick about it.” Killua snorted, and both Leorio and Ikalgo looked appalled at the blond’s crass language. “You wanna get the fuck outta here and get shit faced?” Kurapika asked nonchalantly.

“Killua,” Ikalgo started, “the press conference is tomorrow—”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Killua assured, “I won’t get too drunk. Just enough that the idea of that shitfest tomorrow becomes bearable.” Kurapika coughed, a poor coverup for the snicker that was trying to claw its way out of his body. Killua hopped off the table, grabbing his jacket from one of the plastic chairs he had set it on earlier. “See ya, Ikalgo. Thanks, doc!” 

With that, both drivers had raced out of the tent, faint shouts of _kamikaze shots!_ and _no, you crazy bastard!_ resonating through the crisp February air. Ikalgo sighed. “The worst.” He said simply. 

Leorio let out a sigh of his own. “They really are.” He added. And though both men would furiously deny it, they each watched the boys’ retreating forms with fond looks in their eyes.

  
  


* * *

_Feb. 5, 2020, 8:09pm (2 hours ago)_

**Kite Kaito** kite.kaito@triplestarmagazine.com

To **Gon Freecss** gon.freecss@triplestarmagazine.com

Gon,

I hope this email finds you well. I just wanted to confirm that you’re aware of/prepared for your first assignment. I know you received the briefing today at the office, but I figured I might as well reach out to make sure you’re feeling comfortable and prepared, as well as offer you a chance to ask any questions you might not have had time to ask during the briefing.

I understand that attending tomorrow’s press conference can seem a bit intimidating, especially as this is your first assignment with us. However, you are incredibly talented, and I have no doubt that you will be able to accomplish this.

Cordially,

Kite Kaito

Senior Editor, Triple Star Magazine

* * *

  
  


_Feb. 5, 2020, 9:27pm (38 mins ago)_

**Gon Freecss** gon.freecss@triplestarmagazine.com

To **Kite Kaito** kite.kaito@triplestarmagazine.com

Dear Mr. Kaito,

Once again, thank you for this incredible opportunity. I have prepared as much as possible for the press conference tomorrow, and I am very excited to be able to write about this year’s NASCAR season for Triple Star Magazine! I will be sure to keep you updated on the progress of the article as I continue working on it, and I am sure tomorrow will go off without a hitch!

Yours truly,

Gon Freecss (he/his)

Junior Reporter, Triple Star Magazine Hunter Branch


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again rosie is super late with updating
> 
> v sorry plz don't hate me i just had to do bb boy gon justice
> 
> (also there's a little bit of french and russian in this chapter, translations will be at the end!!)

Gon Freecss woke to sunlight streaming through his blinds. He never closed them, not even when he slept, because he liked being woken up by the sun. Gon believed a soft ray of sun letting him know to rise for the day was like a gentle caress. And so, every day without fail, Gon rose with the sun. 

“ _Soleil_ ,” Gon spoke, voice still heavy with sleep. “ _Le mot en anglais pour soleil est..._ sun.” It had been a few years since Gon had left France (for the first time too!) to come to the United States, and even though he could converse well enough, he still sometimes had to remind himself of the English equivalent of the French words he knew. 

Untangling himself from his massive pile of blankets that he slept with every night, he gently stretched his arms above his head, letting his back arch naturally as his body fell into the stretch. Bending at the waist to stretch his back, Gon wrapped his hands around his ankles, letting himself enjoy the burning stretch for a few minutes before standing up once again. _Today is the day_ , Gon thought. It was his first assignment from _Triple Star Magazine_ , and though Gon felt nervous, he couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to the day’s press conference. 

After graduating from college with a degree in creative writing, Gon had looked for jobs for a year before being personally recruited to _Triple Star Magazine_ by Senior Editor Kite Kaito. He had been offered a job in what was known as the ‘Hunter Branch’, and Gon had accepted immediately. The infamous Hunter Branch had earned their name by being dedicated to seeking out incredible talent across the country. The branch was not picky in the talent they sought, interviewing everyone from dancers, to computer programmers, to adult actors, and finally, to NASCAR drivers. That was where Gon now found himself. He had been instructed to cover the drivers for the 2020 NASCAR season by his superiors and Kite, and he was not going to let them down.

Although Gon was desperate to make a good first impression on his coworkers and superiors, he also had his own personal reasons for being excited about his NASCAR assignment. When he was still in college and deciding on a major, it was a dream of his to have his own blog, a place where he could go across the world and interview people. More specifically, people who had a blinding, driving passion for what they did. Today, Gon hoped, he would find someone who had a passion like that, someone he could hope to inspire and be inspired by. 

No, Gon knew. He knew he would find someone like that today. He could feel it, his whole body tense with anticipation.

* * *

  
  


Slipping out of his pajamas, Gon made his way over to his closet. He needed to be professional, he knew, but he also wanted to let a little bit of his own style shine through. Running his hands over the mix of patterns and fabrics, he stopped abruptly, eyes landing on the perfect pair of pants. They were high waisted, a plaid pattern in soft shades of taupe and creams. _Perfect_ , Gon thought happily. Letting his eyes roam once more, he grabbed a soft white turtleneck sweater, and anticipating the chilly February air, decided to add an oversized fuzzy black cardigan. Just to be safe. At least he didn’t need to worry about his shoes. Gon wore the same pair every day—his beloved black platform Doc Martens. Though Gon was very confident with the way he looked, and would tell anyone who asked, he was aware that his height was a little...lacking. His aunt Mito had told him that his father was only around five and a half feet tall, and Gon seemed to take after him in that aspect.

Throwing on his clothes, Gon decided to add a soft leather belt to his pants, to make them seem a little more professional. He finished it off with varied rose-gold earrings for each piercing he had. He had done the piercings himself, five on his left ear, two on his right, and loved the little edge they gave to his relatively demure sense of style. Quickly grabbing a pair of thick socks—Gon was a creature who did _not_ do well in the cold—he shoved his feet in and padded into the living room of his breezy one bedroom apartment. Throwing his notebook and a handful of glitter pens into his messenger bag, he tugged on his Docs. Running back into his bedroom for a final once-over, Gon was sufficiently pleased with his outfit. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, holding it, and letting it out through his mouth, the way Mito had taught him to do when he got overwhelmed, he looked back once more into the mirror. 

“ _Bonne chance, Gon!”_ He whispered to himself with a grin. Grabbing his keys and his water bottle, he quickly left the apartment and locked the door, ready for whatever the day was about to throw at him.

* * *

  
  


“ _Killua_ ,” Ikalgo hissed, his mood getting worse with every passing minute, “get over here and put your damn shirt on.” It was the day of the press conference, and neither manager nor driver were happy. All the 2020 NASCAR drivers were on location for the press conference, and currently half were sharing the dressing rooms with Killua. Though they were called ‘dressing rooms’, they were really just in a big tent with closed off areas separated by curtains, and the close quarters were not doing anything for Killua’s mood. Currently, he was sitting in a makeup chair, shoulder length silver hair getting blow-dried and styled and foundation being applied to his skin. 

“Oh, come off it, Ikalgo.” Killua replied. He closed his eyes and tried not to lose his temper with the constant poking and prodding, but anyone who knew Killua and his mood swings knew it was a losing game. 

“Killua,” Killua heard a teasing voice calling out, “look at your chest, you little player.” Opening his eyes, Killua saw Kurapika standing in front of him, a cocky grin on his face. The blond was dressed in all black, as was common for his tough ‘leather and chains’ image, sporting a black t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a black leather jacket, and multiple silver chains around his neck. Feeling a finger poking at his well defined chest, Killua looked down to see the bright red love bites still sitting prominently on his skin.

“What’s that, Kurta? You want my workout routine?” Killua asked, quirking his lips into a little smile. “It only took a few months for the abs to show up, I’m sure you could do it if you _really_ tried.”

“Hmm,” Kurapika hummed. “Go fuck yourself, Zoldyck. I was talking about whatever wild animal seemed to have mauled you.” To emphasize his point, he flicked one of the bruises, causing Killua to flinch.

Killua looked up at him, annoyed, but Kurapika only grinned. “Ah, you know how it is,” Killua started, “these chicks are insane.”

Kurapika waved his hand. “Sure, sure. Usually, I like to be the one giving them though.” He winked at someone behind Killua, so he couldn’t see who it was, but he was sure the poor girl was blushing like crazy.

Killua scoffed. “That poor woman. Knowing you and the kind of things you’re into, I wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t walk the next day.” Kurapika only chuckled, a shit eating grin crossing his face.

“Something like that. Oh—Leorio!” Kurapika called.

“Leorio? Dr. Paradinight?” Killua asked, turning around in his seat to look for the man. Sure enough, Leorio was walking towards them, face slightly flushed, and…was he limping?

“Hey Killua, Ikalgo,” Leorio said, a pleasant smile crossing his face. His eyes suddenly narrowed as he turned to Kurapika. “I won’t tell you again, it’s _Dr. Paradinight_.” The blond’s eyes flashed at this, something dark, sinister, promising something, but Killua dismissed it as being annoyed at being told off.

“Yo, Leorio,” Ikalgo waved, Killua’s soft silk button up held in his hand. “Wanna help me convince this brat to get dressed?”

“I’m sure the fans would love it if he went out like this, Ikalgo.” Leorio teased, giving Killua a smile. Killua could’ve sworn he saw Kurapika’s eyes flash again, but decided once again not to pay attention to it.

“Excuse me, _Dr. Paradinight_ , but can I borrow you for a minute?” Kurapika suddenly asked, voice sharp. “I’m afraid I don’t feel too well and was wondering if there was anything you could give me to make me feel better.”

Leorio turned to Kurapika, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, before turning back to Killua and Ikalgo. “I—uhh—I should go take care of this. I’ll see you guys after the press conference. Good luck Killua!” Killua barely had time to mutter a ‘thanks’ in reply before the doctor and the blond practically ran out of the tent. _Weird_ , Killua thought.

“Killua, please, I need you to put your shirt on. The mix of tattoos and love bites makes you look like a delinquent and no one else in this tent needs to be subjected to it any longer.” Ikalgo practically begged him.

“Hey,” Killua grabbed the shirt from him. “My tattoos are cool. Piss off.” However, he complied anyways, sliding the silk button up onto his shoulders and doing the buttons up halfway. Now that his hair and makeup were done, he slid out of his chair and made his way over to the mirror set up in the tent. He had to admit, he looked good. He was wearing the shirt Ikalgo had nagged him into putting on, which was a dark blue silk with little white stripes, which brought out the blue in his eyes perfectly. It was paired with a pair of black dress pants hemmed to the ankle, brown leather loafers, and a few silver necklaces, easily visible with the buttons half undone. 

  
Finishing up the outfit, Killua slid a few silver rings onto his fingers, put on the watch given to him by his father, and ran his fingers through his hair a few times—at the dismay of his hair stylist. Looking himself over once more in the mirror, Killua gave his mirror-self a smirk. “Хорошо,” he whispered under his breath, “давай, блядь, сделаем это.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soleil = sun (french)  
> Le mot en anglais pour soleil est = the word in english for sun is (french)  
> Хорошо, давай, блядь, сделаем это = alright, let's fucking do this (russian)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after being literally the worst and not posting A SINGLE TIME ON FRIDAY AFTER SAYING I WOULD, i decided that u can have chapter 4 early, as a treat.
> 
> (also i changed the Russian to use English letters instead of Cyrillic. lemme know which you prefer?)
> 
> i hope you enjoy (FINALLY!!!) gon and killua meeting!

It was crowded. Reporters swarmed the tent where the press conference was being held, and if it weren’t for his rock solid resolve keeping him grounded, Gon was sure he would’ve been swept away in the chaos. He held his messenger bag securely under his arm, grabbed his lanyard indicating that he was press in the other, and made his way inside amongst the throngs of people. Finding the tent already packed, and all the seats filled, Gon opted to stand near by one of the large speakers set up, in hopes that he would be able to hear better.

Unfortunately, he could not. The press conference was absolute madness. Reporters were basically screaming at each other to get their questions answered, tensions ran high, and the fake smiles that the drivers had plastered on their faces were growing thinner by the minute. Not to mention, Gon could not make out _anything_ anyone was saying. He could’ve sworn he had heard one driver dressed in all black say something along the lines of “make this NASCAR season my bitch”, but surely, none of the drivers would be so profane, right?

Overwhelmed and stressed out, Gon decided to take a breather, deciding that, after a few minutes of fresh air, he’d head back inside and try again. Quickly dodging people left and right, Gon hurried towards the back of the tent, the sunlight that peeked through the flaps calling out to him.

* * *

  
  


Killua had had enough of this idiodic press conference. The reporters were practically frothing at the mouth to get answers to questions that were, quite frankly, _none of their fucking business_. Deciding that ditching now was worth the lecture he’d get from Ikalgo later, he turned to Kurapika, mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ with a wink and finger quotes, and slipped out of his chair. Walking quickly towards the back exit, he took a deep breath, already feeling better now that he was away from the madness. Figuring he should find something to do in case anyone came looking for him and he needed an alibi, Killua decided to go hang out by his car, being able to excuse the absence as a need to take a sponsored picture for Instantgram. However, as Killua got closer to his car, he realized he wasn’t alone. There was a girl by his car, and judging by her outfit, she was one of those reporters from inside the tent. 

“What the hell?” Killua grumbled under his breath, his mood quickly turning sour once more. If he didn’t see another reporter for the rest of his life it would still be too soon. Plus, more importantly, what was she doing near his car? There was no reason she should be that close unless she was planning on doing something. Killua decided to watch her for a second, so that way, if she decided to mess with his car, he’d be able to catch her in the act. _God_ , Killua thought, _I’m so fucking sick of these reporters and their ‘innocent angel’ acts_. Killua would find up exactly what she was up to. Killua quickly ducked behind another car, making sure he was still able to see the reporter. Realizing with a smirk that the car belonged to fellow racer and closet-sociopath Hisoka Morow, Killua picked up a piece of gravel and scratched the impeccable paint of the car, leaving a crudely drawn picture of male genitalia in its wake. _Asshole_ , Killua thought with a shit eating grin. 

An excited voice brought Killua out of his fantasies of kicking Hisoka’s ass and back to the present. “Ouais, Mito! Ils ont l’air trop cool!” Killua snuck another glance over to the reporter, who looked like….she? He? _They_ were talking to someone on the phone. Killua also didn’t understand what language they were speaking. He knew it wasn’t Russian, and it definitely wasn’t English, maybe French? As Killua was eavesdropping, he decided he rather liked the way their voice sounded. _What?_ Killua thought to himself, pinching his wrist. _Get it together you goddamn simp._

Eyes flicking back to the figure and away from his now-stinging wrist, he heard them speak once again. “Mhm! C’est mon premier jour de travail pour _Triple Star Magazine_ aujourd’hui!” Killua saw the figure pause for a second before they turned, back now facing the car and front facing towards Killua.

Oh. So they were a man. Despite being a man, he might have been the most breathtaking person Killua had ever seen. It wasn’t his eyes, deep pools of pools of amber, lined with thick, dark lashes that drew Killua in. Nor his soft, honey colored skin, completed with a light dusting of freckles across the bride of his nose and a rosy flush on his cheeks. No, what drew Killua in was his smile, a million dollar thing, and before he realized it, Killua’s legs had started moving of their own volition and towards the man in front of him.

* * *

  
  


“Ouais, je—” Gon paused, noticing the silver haired man walking towards him, “je vais tu rappeler. Je t’aime!” He hung up the phone without looking, eyes never leaving the man in front of him. He was tall, at least half a foot taller than Gon, and Gon thought he looked like a model. Piercing blue eyes looked down at him through silver eye lashes, pale pink lips curled up into a cruel smirk. Gon didn’t realize he was staring until the man cleared his throat.

“What are you doing here?” The man asked, crossing his arms across his—broad, Gon noticed—chest. Gon opened his mouth to respond when the man cut him off again. “Reporters,” he spared a harsh glance down at the badge around Gon’s neck, “aren’t supposed to be back here. Especially near _my_ car.” Gon’s cheeks flushed slightly before his eyes widened in realization.

“You-you are Killua Zoldyck!” Gon sputtered out.

Killua looked annoyed. “Yeah, what of it?”

Gon smiled up at him, blinding him with a bright and genuine smile. “I think you are very cool! I have seen you do racing many times and I like your passion! My name is Gon!”

Killua felt his face flush what he was sure was a very bright red. “O-oh. Well thanks I guess.” He quickly looked away before continuing, too confused to make eye contact with the gushing man in front of him. “Still, that doesn’t explain why you’re out here. Or near my car.”

“Ah, yes!” Gon exclaimed, gesturing towards Killua’s car. “I liked the lightning design very much! I have never driven a car before so I was curious to look at these ones, because I know they go very fast.”

Killua looked at him, confused. “You’ve never driven a car before?”

Gon shook his head, soft waves of hair falling into his face. “No. I come from Paris, there was not ever a great need to drive a car. I can drive a moped though! I have one back at home.”

“I’ll teach you.” The words flew out of Killua’s mouth before he even realized what he was saying. Once his words sunk in, Killua had to resist the urge to cover his mouth with his hand. Did he really just offer to teach a complete stranger to drive? What the hell was he thinking? Why would Killua say—

“Vraiment? Ce serait génail!” Gon said, so excited that he forgot he was not, in fact, still speaking to his aunt Mito, but instead an _incredibly handsome_ silver-haired NASCAR driver.

_Oh. Right_ , Killua realized, looking at the rosy blush blossoming across the boy’s nose and cheeks. _That’s why_. _He’s fucking cute._

Gon cleared his throat, willing the very blush that Killua was admiring off of his cheeks. “May I give you my number? If you really will teach me?”

Killua looked down at him, letting a genuine smile creep across his face. “Sure. Hand me your phone, yeah?”

After having Killua put his number in his phone, Gon looked down and realized what time it was. “Ah, merde!” He exclaimed. “The press conference is still going on! If I do not hurry back I will miss the whole thing!”

At Gon’s exclamation, Killua also checked the time. “Vot der’mo,” he muttered under his breath. “I have to get back too. Want to walk together?” Killua asked, surprising not only Gon with the question, but himself as well.

Gon looked up at Killua, the smile that had initially drawn his attention ever present on the boy’s face. “I would like that very much, Killua!”

Blushing profusely at hearing his name come out of Gon’s mouth, Killua turned his face away, embarrassed. “I—idiot,” he mumbled under his breath. However, as the two boys walked back to the dreaded press conference, Killua thought back on his initial assessment of Gon, before he had even spoken to the boy. Maybe ‘angel’ wasn’t too far off the mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> [French] Ouais, Mito! Ils ont l’air trop cool! (Yeah Mito, They look super cool!)
> 
> [French] Mhm! C’est mon premier jour de travail pour Triple Star Magazine aujourd’hui! (Mhm! It's my first day working for Triple Star Magazine today!)
> 
> [French] Ouais, je— (Yeah, I)
> 
> [French] je vais tu rappeler. Je t’aime! (I'll call you back. I love you!)
> 
> [French] Vraiment? Ce serait génail! (Really? That would be amazing!)
> 
> [French] Ah, merde! (Ah, shit!)
> 
> [Russian] Vot der’mo (Oh shit)


	5. Chapter Five

“Kuuuurapika” Killua slurred, taking another shot of vodka. “Chtoby stoly lomalis' ot izobiliya, a krovati ot lyubvi!”

Kurapika groaned into his bloody mary. “Oh my god, you’re at the ‘obscure Russian toasts’ drunk level.”

Killua looked over at him pointedly. “Koopa Troopa, I’m not gay but I should learn French.” Killua paused to think. “But I’m not gaaaayyy.”

Kurapika flashed him the bird and took another sip. “Call me Koopa-fucking-Troopa again and I’ll break six of your fingers. Also, are you implying French is a gay language? That’s kinda fucked, man.”

“Okay, you can pick the six, but lemme keep my middle fingers,” Killua said, signaling to the bartender for yet another shot of vodka. He leaned in close to Kurapika, a vodka fueled grin spreading across his face. “Hey, Kurapikachu,” he started, ignoring the glare Kurapika sent him at his second-least favorite nickname. “I gotta tell you a secret. Bein’ an asshole is kinda my brand.” Killua leaned back in his seat, clearly proud of himself for sharing that _very well known_ fact. 

“Aaand another thing,” Killua said, pointing his index finger up like he was about to make a great proclamation. “I love the French, I think their bread is _so_ cool. I said _gay_ ,” he leans in even further to whisper the word, poor Kurapika physically recoiling at the strong scent of alcohol on his breath, “because of meeee.”

Kurapika groans. “God, you’re a sloppy drunk. And why because of you?”

Killua just stares at him. Then taking a deep breath in, Killua decides it’s necessary to yell. Loudly. “Gon Freecss! That confusingly hot reporter! I told him I’d teach him how to drive but Kurapika, the only thing I want him riding is meeee, not my car!”

Kurapika, appalled, quickly slaps a hand over Killua’s mouth, harder than necessary, but hey, who could blame him? “My. God. I can’t believe I’m babysitting your drunk, pining ass.”

“Kurapika,” Killua moves the other man’s hand off of his mouth. “I think I’m botta simp for this one. WAIT—” Killua looks at Kurapika, panic clearly evident in his eyes. “He’s a man!”

Kurapika quickly finishes off his bloody mary. He’s definitely going to need another to deal with gay-panic Killua. “So what if he’s a man?” He snickers into his empty glass. “You’ve never seemed to be too picky with where you’ve gotten your kicks before,” he mutters under his breath, a sly smirk spreading across his face. 

Killua’s mouth drops into a perfect ‘o’ shape. “Kurrrapika, you’re sooooo right. Oh wait,” he says, craning his neck down to look directly at his crotch. “Are you gay?” He asks, poking it rather aggressively. “If you’re gay you gotta tell me, ok buddy?”

“Man, what the fuck?” Kurapika had had enough. “I’m calling someone to drive us home. You’re disturbing the peace and ruining a perfectly good night of drinking? Who has drunk conversations with their dick? God.”

Killua says nothing, cackling as Kurapika slings his arm around his shoulder and helps the taller man stand up. “Oh, and one more thing,” Kurapika says casually, a devilish glint in his eye. “I know you’re not gonna remember any of this, so here goes. I’m gay. I’m gay and I’m dating Leorio and later I’m totally gonna nail him because fucking him is way better than any woman I’ve ever been with.” He pauses, smirking at the half-asleep man next to him. “As I’m sure you’ll come to find out,” he winks, and Killua winks back reflexively.

“Hahaaaa, I’ll drink to that!” Killua cheers, falling flat on his face in a feeble attempt to get back to the bar for just _one more round_.

“Motherfuck,” Kurapika sighs, leaning down all the same to help the lovesick drunk back up onto his feet.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Gon took a deep breath, letting the sweet smell of his candle fill his senses. It was late, really late, but Gon couldn’t find it in himself to go to sleep. He was still reeling over everything that had happened to him. Not only did he get to meet Killua Zoldyck in person, but he was going to teach Gon how to drive a car. Giddy, Gon let out a soft laugh, falling backwards onto his couch and kicking his feet up in the air. Righting himself, he took a long sip of his tea, the soft flavors helping to tame his excitement. Padding over to his kitchen, he unplugged his phone from the charger, pausing for a second when he saw the screen.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_TÉLÉPHONE_

**Killua Zoldyck** Aujourd’hui, 01:13

Appel manqué

**Killua Zoldyck** Aujourd’hui, 01:14

Messagerie Vocale

_MESSAGES_

**Killua Zoldyck** Aujourd’hui, 01:18

iwelewio;j

**Killua Zoldyck** Aujourd’hui, 01:18

oiJP

**Killua Zoldyck** Aujourd’hui, 01:19

wqioj^&@iwelewio;j

**Killua Zoldyck** Aujourd’hui, 01:21

Sorry, this is Killua’s friend. He’s a little drunk right now. Ignore these please. Dumbass didn’t realize his phone was unlocked & sent these by accident.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Gon chuckled, looking at the gibberish Killua had accidentally texted him. Curious, and despite the message from Killua’s friend asking him to ignore it, Gon clicked on the voicemail.

“ _Yooo, it’s Killua. Oh shit, uhh, bonjour! Hahaha!”_

Gon smiled, trying to imagine Killua’s face as he was recording the message. Whatever it looked like, Gon was sure it was still handsome.

“ _Listen, I just gotta tell ya, I know you’re a man but I must be a little gay because I think you’re hot as shit—oh. Kurapika, fuck off, I’m not drunk calling anyone, you’re drunk._ ”

Gon’s eyes widened as he listened to the message, a blush lighting up his cheeks.

“ _Aaaanyways, I know I told you I’d teach you to drive but I can also teach you stick shift, heheh….Huh? Kurapika, kindly shut it for three seconds, I—no, fuck you, at least my hair doesn’t look like it belongs on top of a scarecrow—yeah mullets are fuckin’ cool, got a problem? Anyways, Gonnnnn…._ ”

Gon was about to delete the voicemail and dismiss it as silly, drunk nonsense, when he heard something that made his heart stop. He replayed the message, once, twice, three times, to make sure he heard it correctly, and even when he did, he still didn’t fully believe it. Sure, being drunk led people to say some crazy things, but surely nothing like that, right?

Gon’s finger hovered over the delete button, unsure of what to do. The words from Killua’s friend were stuck in his brain, the “ignore these please” especially prominent, and Gon almost pressed his thumb down, but held back, deciding to save the message instead. Closing the application and locking his phone, Gon made his way to his bedroom, crawling quickly under the covers and wrapping himself in his blankets. Even if what Killua had said was drunken nonsense, Gon would let himself be a little selfish and get swept up in the fantasy. Even just for one night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_February 7th, 2020_ _JuiceNews_

**_EXCLUSIVE: NASCAR Drivers Zoldyck and Kurta’s Wild Night_ **

_By: Tonpa Bendot_

  
Following NASCAR’s first big official press conference of the season, young drivers Killua Zoldyck and Kurapika Kurta celebrated hard….but at what cost? Patrons of the well-known _Yorkshin Pub_ got more than they bargained for last night when Zoldyck and Kurta decided to stop by for some post work drinks. Sources have confirmed that both men were incredibly intoxicated, and together racked up over $650 in drinks alone! (Multiple individuals have confirmed that part of this cost was Zoldyck shouting “next round’s on me! I’m Killua f*****g Zoldyck!) Additionally, Zoldyck and Kurta were seen taking part in various physical challenges around the bar, including a handstand contest and a balancing contest. _Yorkshin Pub_ has confirmed that these challenges have somehow resulted in several hundreds of dollars worth of damage to the pub and surrounding properties. Needless to say, both men are now banned for life from the establishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Russian] Chtoby stoly lomalis' ot izobiliya, a krovati ot lyubvi! (Let the tables break from abundance and the beds break from love!)
> 
> [French] Aujourd’hui (today)
> 
> [French] Appel manqué (missed call)
> 
> [French] Messagerie Vocale (voicemail)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this chapter ridiculously late? yes. am i super sorry for that? absolutely.
> 
> anyways, the illusive chapter 6 of life on track is finally ready. lemme just say that this was a PAIN to get right, and it gave me so much writer's block, it's not even funny.
> 
> a quick (and well deserved) shoutout to my lovely editor (part time) and girlfriend (full time) lu, or @breakfastwithlu here on AO3! if you haven't read her fics yet idk why you haven't and you absolutely should.
> 
> so! without further ado and ramblings by rosie, i humbly present chapter six!!
> 
> (as always, you can find me on tumblr @rosiesbizzareadventure !!!)

_“Thank you for tuning in today, folks! If you’re just now joining us, I’m Saccho Kobayakawa, here with my co-host, Mizaistrom Nana! Now, Mizai, this is the first race of the NASCAR season, is that correct?”_

_“That’s correct, Saccho! The crowd here is excited and very ready to see these drivers in action today!”_

_“So, Mizai, what can we expect from today’s race?”_

_“Well, Saccho, we’ve got a lot of promising racers in this 2020 NASCAR season. Our crowd favorite, and of course our racer projected to win would have to be Hisoka Morow. Morow, number forty-four, is infamous both on and off the track for his antagonistic and taunting behavior towards both racers and fans alike. However, there is no denying the prodigious talent he possesses.”_

_“You’re right about that! We’ve also seen a lot of promising results from number sixty-six, Chrollo Lulcifer! A racer known to have an on-again, off-again friendship with Morow, Lulcifer is known as NASCAR’s wild card!”_

_“That’s right, Saccho! Many die-hard fans have said that, if Lulcifer was to apply himself to his full potential, he would come in first consistently!”_

_“I guess we’ll just have to see what happens then! Mizai, what else can we expect from today’s racers?”_

_“It wouldn’t be possible to talk about today’s race without mentioning NASCAR’s signature bad-boy, Kurapika Kurta!”_

_“You’re right, Mizai! Kurta’s been a fan favorite for both his impressive—yet aggressive—driving style on the track, and his sharp humor and wit off the track. Frequent listeners may remember our segment, ‘Top Ten Kurapika Kurta Quotes’.”_

_“Well, Saccho, I certainly do! I believe my personal favorite quote appeared on our list!”_

_“What was that again, Mizai?”_

_“I’m going to need you to censor this for me, Saccho.”_

_“You got it.”_

_“Here goes:‘you better get down on your_ *bleep* _knees and pray to whatever_ *bleep* _higher power you believe in, because if you don’t leave me the_ *bleep* _alone I swear to_ *bleep* _that I’ll take that dumb mother—_ *bleep* _camera out of your_ *bleep* _hands and shove that goddamn thing so far up your_ *bleep* _that you’ll be able to perform your own_ *bleep* _colonoscopy, you_ *bleep* *bleep* *bleep* _.’”_

_“Wow. That quote never gets old.”_

_“No, Saccho, it definitely does not!”_

_“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but it was after this incident that the paparazzi stopped following Kurta alone, yes?”_

_“You’re right! The great paparazzi scare of 2018.”_

_“Hahah—ahem. Anyways, anyone else we should be on the lookout for today, Mizai?”_

_“Well Saccho, it’s a quick jump from the bad boy of NASCAR to the playboy of NASCAR.”_

_“By playboy, are you referring to Killua Zoldyck?”_

_“Yes I am! Also one of Kurta’s close friends, Zoldyck hasn’t been in the game for very long, this season marking his third year as a NASCAR driver, but he definitely features undeniable talent.”_

_“You’re absolutely right, Mizai. I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m excited to see what this season brings for Zoldyck. And with that, it looks like the race is about to start! We’ll get right back to you after a quick word from our sponsors. Take it away, Mizai!”_

_“Well Saccho, my favorite part of the day for sure is unwrapping a Chocorobo. With twelve essential vitamins and minerals….”_

* * *

  
  


What an anticlimactic first day. Killua had placed sixth, not terrible overall, but what bothered him more was Hisoka-f _ucking_ -Morow coming in first. Killua’s dislike of Hisoka was no secret; the man barely had any friends within the NASCAR drivers’ circle simply because he made people uncomfortable. His eyes, much like a cat hiding in the dark, were cold and calculating, and made people wary of him. If the looks he gave didn’t do it, it was definitely his smirk. That smirk, seemingly harmless on the outside, housed a world of secrets, twisted words and sharp lies waiting to pounce on whatever unsuspecting victim got too close.

Essentially, he was one of Killua’s least favorite people.

“Killua!” A voice pulled Killua out of one of his favorite daydreams, hitting Hisoka with his car, and he turned, ready to snap at them for disturbing his peace and enjoyable murder fantasy.

“What the fuck do you wa—oh, Gon! Haha, I didn’t know it was you….” Killua trailed off, embarrassed at having snapped at the beaming man in front of him. If Gon was upset, he didn’t seem to show it, instead rushing towards Killua. He was wearing a thick white cable knit sweater and high waisted burnt orange corduroy pants, and on anyone else, Killua would’ve sworn it would look dumb, but Gon managed to pull it off. _Gon would look good in anything_ , Killua thought. _Actually, he’d probably look better in nothing at all_ ….

Killua flushed bright red, choosing instead to mentally count backwards from ten in Russian to distract himself from his very intrusive thoughts.

* * *

  
  


“Hello Killua! I saw you racing! You were driving very fast!” Gon ran over, his brown leather boots smacking the pavement with every quick step he took. Killua was looking at him now, really looking, and gave him a small smile. Gon had to remind himself to breathe. There was this tall, handsome, professional race car driver, and he was smiling at him, at Gon. The sun was setting, it was late afternoon now, after all, and it shone down perfectly on Killua, silver strands of hair meeting gold streaks of sun. Gon thought he was breathtaking.

The taller man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, well, not fast enough, apparently.” He laughed a little. “I did come in sixth, after all.” 

Gon quirked his eyebrows, confused. “But sixth place is very good, right? There were forty-three racers, Killua. You should be proud!”

Killua blushed, the slightest flush of red covering his cheeks. “Thanks, Gon. By the way,” he asked nervously, avoiding eye contact with the shorter man, “did you want to maybe get together this weekend?”

Gon opened his mouth to reply, and Killua quickly fumbled over his words to add on to his question. “I-I mean so you can learn how to drive! That’s why! It’s just me doing you a favor, okay?” 

Killua could have smacked himself. _Nice one, idiot,_ he thought. _First make it seem like you’re asking him on a date, then make him feel guilty for having you teach him how to drive. Dumbass!_

However, Gon simply gave him a soft smile, nodding his head in confirmation. “This weekend would be great! Also,” Gon looked up to meet Killua’s eyes, “I met a few people here and invited them over, because I do not have very many friends in the area. We are planning on having a little get together at my apartment this weekend, would you like to come?”

Killua could have jumped for fucking joy. Not only was his cute French reporter set to meet with him over the weekend, but he had actually invited him over to his apartment. _Play it cool, Killua,_ he thought to himself. Putting on his best ‘suave and handsome race car driver’ face, Killua looked at Gon and smiled cooly. “Apartment,” he said stupidly. 

Gon kept smiling, but looked a little confused. “Yes, my apartment. You are invited!”Gon blinked at Killua, his smile wide and good natured. 

_Oh my god,_ Killua thought. _I had planned to accept his invitation all sexy and cool….and instead I said fucking ‘apartment’?_ If someone could die of mortification, Killua would have dropped on the spot. He almost wished Kurapika was there to witness the exchange, because Killua wholly felt he deserved to be made fun of. 

Killua was thanking his lucky stars that Gon didn’t seem too put off by his idiodic behavior. Honestly, Killua wasn’t even sure what he really wanted with Gon, he hadn’t ever really been a relationship person, he was too attracted to him to leave it just at acquaintances, and he didn’t want to pull his typical love-them-and-leave-them bullshit, but where did that leave him? Quite frankly, Killua was having a _very_ confusing time figuring out his sexuality in relation to the French reporter, and that was just half of the battle! He wasn’t even sure if Gon was attracted to him as well, let alone attracted to men. However, something about Gon struck Killua, making it hard for him to dismiss it as simple lust for the shorter man. Killua mentally sighed, deciding to tackle something as inconvenient as _feelings_ at a later date, and turned back to Gon, trying to mentally reset and redeem himself in his second attempt to accept Gon’s invitation.

“That sounds nice. I’ll stop by. Would you like me to bring anything in particular?” Killua asked, pulling his silver locks through his ponytail and shaking out his shoulder length hair, completely coincidentally and not-at-all planned and timed.

Gon stared at him wide-eyed for a second. “Hmm, you can bring something to drink if you want!” 

Unfortunately, Killua’s ponytail seduction plan had backfired heavily, causing him to need to blink strands of hair out of his eyes, missing Gon’s very obviously reddening cheeks. “Damn hair—yeah, okay, something to drink. I can bring drinks.”

Gon smiled, hiding a chuckle behind a hand with one nail painted.

Killua zeroed in on Gon’s pointer finger. “You paint your nails?” He asked, not judgmentally, moreso curious than anything. He had never seen another man with painted nails before, aside from Kurapika, who joked that his black nail polish “helped to hide the blood”. At least, Killua hoped he was joking.

Gon nodded. “Yes! Years ago, when I was a little boy, I saw my aunt Mito painting her nails, and asked her about it. She offered to paint mine, and I’ve been a fan ever since!” He looked down, observing the gold stars within the clear polish on his pointer fingers. “Usually, I just paint my pointer fingers now. I like the little touch it adds.”

Killua hummed in thought, unsure of how to approach his next question. “Hey, Gon, I don’t mean to be rude, or uh, insensitive or anything, but….do people ever….give you a hard time about it?”

The reporter pauses for a moment, looking deep in thought. “Sometimes,” he admits, starting to rummage through his brown leather backpack, charms on the zippers swinging wildly around. His eyes light up triumphantly as he seems to find what he’s looking for. “But that’s why I have this!” He proclaims, proudly whipping out an Emerson CQC-13.

It takes Killua half a second to register the fact that Gon is holding a very expensive, very sharp knife in front of him, and another half of a second to register where they are. “Jesus Christ, Gon!” He yelps, rushing forward towards the shorter man and quickly (but carefully) shoving the knife back into his bag. “You _cannot_ pull out a weapon at a public venue, my god!”

Killua quickly darts his eyes around, looking for any witnesses to the small man’s proud brandishing of a knife, and sighs in relief when he finds none. “Really?” Gon asks, with genuine curiosity. “I’ve brought this knife so many places! I have only pulled it on people a few times, though. I don’t like violence.”

Killua takes a second to process everything that just happened, his brain short circuiting from his new proximity to Gon, courtesy of the unexpected knife-wielding. Gon, his adorable, cherubic, French reporter, the only reporter he could ever consider liking, was telling Killua about his glittery nail polish and how his aunt used to paint his nails, when suddenly, from his bag laden with charms and keychains, he pulled out a three and a half inch black tactical knife, claimed he’s only used it a few times, and finally, solemnly proclaimed that he ‘doesn’t like violence’. 

Killua mutters out some reply, unaware of exactly what he’s saying, and returns Gon’s wave goodbye, shaking his head to try and bring himself back to the present. He makes his way into the dressing rooms, stripping out of his jumpsuit, throwing his clothes back on, and pulling his hair back into a low messy ponytail. Sitting down in a black velvet armchair, he rubs his eyes, playing his encounter with Gon over and over in his mind.

Killua had no idea what to make of Gon. But, with every new thing he learns about him, every quirk the man unmasks, Killua finds himself pulled deeper and deeper into the whirlwind that is Gon Freecss, French native, reporter, Doc Marten lover, and apparent knife owner. Killua can’t wait to go over to his apartment, see what Gon is like when he’s not on the clock, maybe find one more precious clue that can help Killua understand who Gon really is at his very core.

Oh, shit. Gon’s apartment. The get-together. Bringing the drinks. Finding something to wear. Making a good impression. Killua is screwed.

Frantically whipping out his phone, Killua scrolls quickly to one of the few numbers he’s bothered to save in his phone.

  
  


* * *

>   
> **Killua Zoldyck:** Fuck, I need your help. Like ASAP
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** killua i swear to fuck i am literally in the middle of something rn
> 
> **Killua Zoldyck:** What, getting your dick sucked? Lol
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** yes
> 
> **Killua Zoldyck:** FUCK YOU I DON’T WANNA KNOW THAT
> 
> **Killua Zoldyck:** Wait, why are you texting in the middle of it
> 
> **Killua Zoldyck:** Is the girl not good or something? Haha
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** i have like four numbers in my phone so i thought it was an emergency piss off
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** last time i answer a text from you smh
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** and i can honestly say that i have not enjoyed a woman going down on me for a long time
> 
> **Killua Zoldyck:** That’s sad, man
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** tell me what you want before i never help you with anything ever again
> 
> **Kurapika Kurta:** and before i get noticed for texting rn lmao
> 
> **Killua Zoldyck:** So here’s the situation…


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my absolute unit of a girlfriend Lu for encouraging me ~~bullying me~~ to get out of my writers block and whip out this chapter. i wouldn't be the kind of writer i am without you!!
> 
> anyways, chapter seven!!

“If I see your dick I’m leaving.” Kurapika called across the room. 

Killua snorted. “Yeah, yeah, bite me.” He replied back, pulling on the ties of his black silk robe. 

Kurapika turned to him, eyebrow cocked playfully. “Bro. Why’d you make that so sexual?” He was standing in front of Killua’s (rather impressive) alcohol collection, finding the most expensive bottles and hiding them inside his leather jacket when Killua wasn’t looking. Kurapika had been invited over by a frantic Killua, the younger man claiming he needed his help finding “an appropriate host gift” and “an outfit that made him look hot, but not like a total douche, but also still very hot.” It was the day of Gon’s little get together, and Killua was panicking, full on disaster mode.

Killua grumbled, making his way over to the kitchen where Kurapika had successfully snagged four bottles, and grabbed a fork. “Fuck off. Bite me isn’t always sexual. Also, how dumb do you think I am? I can literally see you stealing my shit.” He gave Kurapika a pointed glare, taking his fork and digging into one of the ten _Decadence D’Or_ cupcakes he had flown in from Las Vegas. 

He had initially planned to bring them as his house warming gift, only to be rejected immediately by Kurapika, who had told him that “$750 cupcakes are a dumb fucking idea,” followed by a direct “were you dropped on your head as an infant or something? Idiot.” Needless to say, Killua had scrapped the idea, leaving his loft full of fancy, delicious cupcakes. Well, it could be worse.

Killua groaned around a mouthful of gold flakes and Tahitian Gold Vanilla Caviar. “Kurapikaaa,” he whined, “help me figure out something to bring! And wear!” He scooped up another generous bite of cupcake, not noticing the look of absolute revulsion on Kurapika’s face at an image he could never get rid of: a grown man crying about his crush into an overpriced dessert. 

Kurapika shifted his arms full of stolen alcohol. “Didn’t he ask you to bring drinks or something?” He muttered, turning the bottles in his arms around to see if he could find price tags on any of them. He, unfortunately, did not. Kurapika doubted Killua even knew how much half the stuff in his apartment cost.

Killua didn’t even look up from the cupcake he was currently terrorizing, the physical embodiment of one eating their feelings. “Kurapika. Help me. You gotta work with me here. This is no longer a ‘me problem’. You got involved when you decided to steal from me. What kind of drinks? Is there a way to say ‘are you gay’ with a drink? Kurapikaaaa. Am I gay? I just think he’s really cute. Kurapika! Help meeeee!”

Kurapika wanted to hit him over the head with one of the bottles he was currently smuggling. He never thought he’d miss cocky, asshole Killua, but whiny, pining Killua made him want to smash his head against a wall. “I don’t know, man, bring some kind of alcohol and maybe something non-alcoholic too—for good measure.”

The man across from him looked up with a renewed hope on his face, baby blue eyes shining bright and ridiculously expensive frosting across his lip. _Whiny idiot baby,_ Kurapika thought to himself, smirking. “Where’s your laptop? I’ll help you look up some stuff to bring.”

Bolting up, Killua sprinted towards his bedroom, his lack of clothing forgotten as his robe fluttered dangerously close to rendering the man indecent. Cackling at shouts of disgust from Kurapika, he grabbed the device, running back to his kitchen island. “Here,” he breathed, panting a little bit at the exertion.

“You know, for a professional athlete, you’re in terrible shape.” Kurapika teased him.

Killua rolled his eyes and poked Kurapika in the side. “Okay, flabby. Turns out twenty-eight is the year you let yourself go, huh?” He snickered as he felt a smack to the back of the head.

“Don’t make me regret offering to help. Pull up the search bar.”

Killua did as he was bid, pulling up the search bar and clicking his cursor, preparing to type. What he was not prepared for, however, was for his previous search history to come up as well.

“Kurapika, I can—”

“Jesus, Killua, you’ve got issues.”

Sitting there proudly on the screen were the results of Killua’s late night panicked internet searches.

> _killua zoldyck net worth_
> 
> _is killua zoldyck hot_
> 
> _website to translate french_
> 
> _gon freecss french_
> 
> _gon freecss facebook_
> 
> _gon freecss relationship_
> 
> _gon freecss gay_
> 
> _gon freecss triple star magazine_
> 
> _gon freecss_
> 
> _how to tell if someone is gay_
> 
> _how to tell if i’m gay_
> 
> _top and bottom_
> 
> _what is a top_
> 
> _what is a top gay sex_
> 
> _does it hurt to bottom_
> 
> _how do i tell someone i want to top_
> 
> _how do two guys have sex_
> 
> _is gay porn accurate_
> 
> _where to watch gay porn_
> 
> _can i be gay for just one person_
> 
> _am i gay quiz_

Kurapika clapped him on the shoulder. “Never mind. I-I’m gonna go home and pretend I never saw any of this. Thanks for the booze. And remember,” Kurapika gives him a serious look, locking eyes with Killua. “Next time you need something, especially help with something like this, _don’t call me._ ” Kurapika got up, grabbing his leather jacket, his motorcycle keys, and an empty Off-White backpack Killua left sitting by the door, haphazardly shoving the alcohol inside. “I’m stealing this.” He says by way of goodbye, shoes on, jacket under his arm, hand waving in the air, door slamming behind him.

Killua snorts under his breath as he watches his best friend walk out the door. “What a fucker.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


_Fuck. Motherfuck_ , Killua thought. Kurapika, the asshole, had left without helping Killua find something to wear. And while Killua’s sense of style was nothing to sneeze at, trashy tabloid magazines always praising him for his ‘off the charts street style!’, this was _different_. It would be the first time Killua would be interacting with Gon simply as himself, not as a NASCAR driver, not as an interviewee at a press conference, (not as a well known heartthrob, Killua thought, smugly), but as himself, Killua Zoldyck. A (surprisingly) awkward, nearly six and a half foot tall twenty four year old man with a crush like a teenaged schoolgirl. Obviously, this outfit had to be perfect.

Still in his robe, it had been a full two hours since Kurapika had _ever so rudely_ stolen his alcohol and one of his favorite casual bags and fled his loft. In that time, Killua had moped around a little bit, found the perfect drinks to bring to Gon’s and ordered them to be ready for pickup, and finally, practiced some pick-up lines in the mirror, just in case an opportunity to flirt with Gon arose.

_“Haha, hey, Gon, come here often? ….Stupid! It’s his house, idiot! Of course he comes there often! Dumb, dumb, dumb—”_

_“I lost my phone number, wanna come over to mine? Wait, that’s—no, that’s not right.”_

_“You’ve got so much ass you must be a Democrat! Because….donkey….god dammit I’m an idiot.”_

Fortunately, Killua had decided to forgo the pick-up lines, and just let his outfit do the talking. Hopefully, Gon would appreciate it as well. Smacking both cheeks with his palms in an attempt to psych himself up, Killua picked up the phone, clicking on his most recent call.

“ _Fuck do you want?_ ”

“Oh, hi, alcohol thief.”

“ _Five seconds before I hang up._ ”

“God, you’re the worst,” Killua muttered under his breath. “Anyways, you left before helping me find something to wear tonight, you prick!” Killua heard some kind of muffled noise on the other end of the phone, but chose to ignore it in lieu of running his hands over a rack of shirts.

“ _No, don’t put your pants on, it’ll just be a second. Killua, I could not give any less of a shit about what you wear. I’m hanging up now._ ”

“Who’s that?” Killua asked, half teasing. 

“ _Your mother._ ” Kurapika deadpanned. Killua snorted.

“You can keep her. Anyways, what the hell do I wear?”

Killua turned to look at himself in his full length mirror, face moving inches away from the glass to look at his pores. _The line’s been silent for a few seconds,_ Killua thought to himself. _Is he thinking that hard about it? Maybe he’s really going to—._ A noise on the other end of the line made his face light up in both horror and amusement. “Kurapika,” Killua asked, “was that a-ahem, _was that a moan_?”

A snicker came through the phone. “Sure was. Thanks for the alcohol, by the way. Really set the mood for me and my _bedroom guest_. You should hear—”

Killua hung up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've absolutely googled 'am i gay quiz' before. judging by all of my chapter notes, we all know how that ended up. as my girlfriend (gay!!) says, "if you're googling an 'am i gay quiz', you've probably already got your answer."
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr @rosiesbizarreadventure !!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back to rosie is canonically the worst i'll be your host
> 
> anyways!!! i did not abandon this fic!! only the majority of my responsibilities!! i've got a lot planned, so stay tuned :))
> 
> as always, i'm @sunnysideblonde on tumblr
> 
> ((couldn't post this chapter w/o a cheesy little blurb for my editor & co-simp, @breakfastwithlu. lu, thanks for always being patient with me and encouraging me to write--you make me want to be a better writer and none of this would be possible without you. you have my complete adoration.))

Standing at his front door, Killua felt ready. Getting out of his car, Killua felt ready. Standing in the elevator of Gon’s building, Killua felt ready. Standing in front of Gon’s apartment door, Killua….was not ready.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Pacing back and forth in front of Gon’s ‘everyone’s welcome at grandma’s house!’ doormat, he tried to remember the breathing exercises he learned in his state-mandated anger management courses. “Come on, man! You’re Killua Zoldyck!”

Pulling out his phone from his front pocket, he flipped the camera to selfie mode and looked at himself in the screen. Okay. He could work with this. “Yeah baby, I’m Killua. The Killua. The Killinator. The lady killer.” Attempting to slick his eyebrows back (as he had seen done in movies), he brought his thumb and pinky together, sticking his tongue out and licking them tentatively. He immediately regretted it. “Eh? gross.” He shuddered, quickly pulling his fingers away. “This tastes like,” he took a curious whiff of his fingers, placing them back on his tongue. “Plastic….and money? Does money even have a taste? God damn it, I don’t—”

“Killua?” No. No way. Absolutely not. Gon Freecss was not standing in front of his now open doorway, he was not looking at Killua with concern and the slightest bit of humor, and Killua _did not_ still have his fingers touching his tongue. “Do you want to come inside?” Gon asked good-naturedly. 

“Ahem,” Killua cleared his throat, quickly pulling the offending fingers out of his mouth and brushing strands of silver hair behind his ear. “Yeah, sure.” He said, watching as Gon turned his back to him and led him inside. If anyone caught his eyes wandering down Gon’s backside, over tight black denim, Killua would have absolutely denied it. Mostly. Hey, it wasn’t his fault that Gon looked good. Black skinny jeans hugged soft thighs, rips exposing tanned skin. His shirt, _or lack thereof_ , Killua thought, was a silk pink button up, buttons forgone to simply tie around Gon’s waist, leaving both his chest and midriff bare. If Killua had only a fragment less of self control, he was sure he’d be drooling. 

“Hey, Gon, this is for you,” Killua said, thrusting out a Saint Laurent tote bag filled with his earlier alcohol order, more specifically, two bottles of Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru (which had set him back about $15k, nothing too major for Killua) and the _four_ bottles of Grey Goose that Kurapika had requested. “The wine is French. I thought you’d like it because, you know, you’re French and uh—” Killua was trailing off, but he couldn’t help it. Gon was looking directly at him, wide brown eyes meeting his own, and Killua could barely remember his own name. 

“Wow, thanks Killua! That’s,” Gon smiled softly, and _was he...blushing?_ “That is very sweet of you.” He took a step closer to Killua, eyes swirling with something indistinguishable, when suddenly, a loud laugh from inside the door startled them both, effectively ruining the mood. 

Killua’s fists clenched at the idea of someone ruining a moment between him and Gon, mind immediately jumping to ‘considering homicide’. _No, Killua_ , he thought, taking a deep breath, _that’s not the answer. Man, not killing people is pretty hard._

* * *

“Hey guys!” Gon’s cheerful voice called out as he walked into the apartment and gently set down the bag. “Killua’s here. Everyone, say hi.”

“Oh, _hello Killua_.” A voice said. A familiar voice. Killua’s eyebrow twitched. “What a surprise to see _the lady killer_ here in the flesh.”

“ _Kurapika_.” Killua gritted out. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Kurapika waved from his spot on the couch, arm slung around what looked to be a very drunk Leorio. “Really?” He feigned innocence. “I could’ve sworn I told you.” Leorio snickered from underneath his arm, and Killua was seeing red.

Frowning, Killua mumbled under his breath, “I need to use the bathroom,” and dismissed Gon’s offer for help in finding it. Turning the corner, he walked down a hallway, reflecting on the impression he must have given off to Gon. Not only did Gon hear his embarrassing pep talk and him referring to himself as _The Killinator_ , but he also saw him sticking his fingers in his mouth. _Well,_ Killua’s brain helpfully supplied, _maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world. Maybe he was imagining his—_

_“_ Oof!” Killua’s mental dialogue was cut off by him bumping into an ugly armchair. “You’re pretty strong!” The armchair told him.

Oh. That wasn’t an armchair. Killua looked down, a man wearing gray sweatpants and a tie-dyed _Walt Disney World_ t-shirt occupying the space he believed to belong to furniture. “Sorry,” Killua dismissed, moving to walk once again down the hallway.

“Hang on! You’re Killua Zoldyck, right? No way! Gon said you were coming, but I thought for sure he was lying!” Killua’s ears perked up.

Whirling around at inhuman speed, he rushed right over to the man, personal space long forgotten. “Gon talked about me? What did he say? Did he talk about how handsome I am? Do you live here with him? Are you his boyfriend?” He bombarded the man with questions, eyes blown wide, a poor impression of a friendly smile pulled tight across his face.

The man in front of him chuckled nervously, a bead of sweat falling down his forehead. “He, uhh, just said you’d be coming tonight, and asked me if I had a car he could borrow, because you told him you’d teach him. As for the other questions, I’m not his boyfriend! Gon, aha, Gon isn’t interested in me,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “By the way, I’m Zushi,” he said, smiling at Killua. “I don’t live here, but I do actually live down the hallway! It’s my uncle’s apartment, he—”

“That’s nice, sushi. Talk to you later.” Killua said, determination now flowing through his body. Bathroom long forgotten, Killua decided to head back to the living room. _Tonight_ , he decided, _tonight’s the night I’m going to find out even more about Gon._

* * *

Making his way back, Killua was bombarded with too much for his brain to process at once. Gon was hanging out with Kurapika and Leorio, his shirt had somehow come untied, leaving him completely bare chested, and he was actively shot-gunning a canned drink. 

“Take that, Kurapika!” He boasted, slamming the now empty can on his head, crushing it with brute force and pure determination written all over his face. “Could a twink do _that_?” He presented the can out proudly.

“Gon,” Kurapika said, voice tinged with humor. “That’s sparkling pink wine.”

“Oh.” Gon looked down at the can in his hands. “I thought this was a White Claw. Leorio, I thought I asked if you could grab me a White Claw?”

Killua glanced over to Leorio sitting in his same spot from earlier, joined by the addition of a glass of red wine. His head was bowed, eyes red and puffy. “I should’ve been a surgeon,” he mumbled sadly under his breath. Kurapika, who was still sitting with his arm slung around him, laughed.

“What? Don’t like working for NASCAR around guys like me all day?” He asked, grip tightening ever so slightly around the man’s broad shoulder.

“No! Look! Look at my hands!” Leorio pushed his hands directly in front of Kurapika’s face, making the man recoil. “Look how steady they are!” He wailed, downing the rest of the wine in his glass.

Gon looked over to Kurapika worriedly. “Is he okay?”

Kurapika nodded. “Yeah, for a big guy, he’s a terrible drunk. He’ll be fine, you just gotta let him do his thing. Of course,” he said, grabbing Leorio’s chin and tilting his face towards his own, “he can’t always do whatever he wants. Sometimes someone needs to put him in his place.” He smirked. 

At Kurapika’s words, Killua blushed, not completely sure why. He felt like he witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to see, but why was that? Kurapika was just being a good friend. However, Gon didn’t seem to be bothered by their exchange. Bending down to be at eye level with the couch, he patted Leorio’s arm. Leorio, realizing there was someone else he could show his hands to, thrust them out once more, this time in Gon’s face, a silent plea for reassurance on his face. Gon smiled. “Your hands do look very steady, Leorio! I think you would make a very good surgeon!” 

Seemingly placated, Leorio looked up, making direct eye contact with Killua, who flinched. Wordlessly, Leorio got up from the couch, making his way over to Killua and shoving his hands in _his_ face this time. Killua panicked, looking back and forth between an amused Kurapika, a smiling Gon, and a _very_ drunk Leorio. “Why’s he looking at me like that?” He asked.

Kurapika cackled, clearly amused at the situation. “Help me!” Killua hissed between his teeth, Leorio moving even closer and flexing his fingers in demonstration for the silver haired man.

“Umm, Killua, maybe tell him that he’d make a good surgeon?” Gon suggested helpfully.

Kurapika nodded his head, still laughing at Killua. “Yeah, when he’s like this, he’s not gonna leave you alone until he hears it. He’s more bratty than you’d think. Although,” Kurapika mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for Killua to hear, but Gon must have picked up on it, if the way his face flushed bright red was any indication.

Well, whatever. Killua didn’t care about whatever Kurapika was saying about his friendship with Leorio. He turned back to address the drunk in front of him. “Hey, buddy,” he said, desperately trying to get out of his current situation. “I think you’d make a nice surgeon, okay?”

Leorio looked up, eyes bright and hopeful. Without saying a word he scurried off, probably to find his next victim to harass. 

_Okay_ , Killua thought, _now’s my chance_. Smiling at Gon, Killua quickly turned around and whipped out his phone, pulling up his texts with Kurapika. 

* * *

**Killua Zoldyck:** Listen I know you like to fuck with me a lot but if you’re my friend even a little I NEED you to do me this one favor

**Kurapika Kurta:** lol

**Kurapika Kurta:** it’s about gon, right

**Kurapika** **Kurta:** i can’t believe im friends with such a fuckin simp

**Killua Zoldyck:** Ok you know what fuck you

**Killua Zoldyck:** Wait

**Killua Zoldyck:** Does that mean you’re gonna help?

**Kurapika Kurta:** yeah sure. watching you try to flirt is gonna give me indigestion anyways

**Kurapika Kurta:** dont fuck it up 

**Kurapika Kurta:** hes honestly out of ur league

**Killua Zoldyck:** Ok that’s unnecessary

* * *

Kurapika stood up and stretched, letting out an over-exaggerated groan. “Alright, I’m gonna go find Leorio.” He found Killua’s eyes and winked. “I’m suddenly not feeling too great.” He started to make his way out of the room, but turned back around abruptly. “Gon,” he said, “didn’t you say that Killua was going to teach you how to drive? You guys should _talk about that_. Okay. I’m out.” He turned around once more, wallet chain clanging as he spun, black Doc Martens squeaking on the hardwood floor.

That sneaky fucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u see a hxh quote in here from killua u are not mistaken
> 
> also lu called killua the biggest idiot and i think it fits him perfectly
> 
> (some random stuff)
> 
> drunk leorio crying about how he should've been a surgeon and shoving his fingers in everyone's face reminds me of two videos--[tamaki from ouran high school host club making puppy dog eyes and whiny noises](https://youtu.be/vwEHpOFgaHA) and [the dude why's he looking at me like that video](https://youtu.be/Q8bGKj_nmtQ) lmao


End file.
